Where Engines Dream

Posted on Tue Nov 11th, 2025 @ 11:59pm by Lieutenant JG Alexander Stewart & 2nd Lieutenant Jekebb ch’Bari

2,354 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Long Night
Location: Engineering: NX-03 Challenger
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 0000

The transport shuttle gave a final shudder as the docking clamps locked with a hollow clang that echoed through its frame. Through the viewport, Challenger floated in Dock 4—bathing in the pale wash of berth lights and reflected starlight. Her hull shimmered with quiet promise, the NX-03 emblem faintly visible along her spine. Stewart exhaled, letting the sight settle into him. This wasn’t just another ship. She was the culmination of everything he’d studied, everything he’d waited for.

The airlock cycled open with a hiss and a rush of cooler, filtered air. He adjusted the strap of his duffel and stepped across the threshold. The deck plating vibrated beneath his boots, not with the thunder of a running warp core but the subdued pulse of systems coming online. The smell of sterilized alloy and charged plasma filled the corridor—industrial, metallic, but strangely comforting.

He followed the curved passage toward Main Engineering, lights glowing amber along the ribbed bulkheads. The soft illumination reminded him of late sunsets over Aberdeen’s stone streets—warm yet distant. Crew moved around him, purposeful but quiet, each one absorbed in the ritual of readying a starship for departure. Stewart nodded to them but spoke little; this moment belonged to him alone.

The doors to Engineering parted with a hydraulic sigh. The room opened before him—a cathedral of steel and light. Catwalks and grated walkways surrounded the central warp reactor, its bronze housing gleaming under spotlights. Twin plasma conduits extended forward like the arms of some mechanical deity, feeding into the heart of the ship. The core itself glowed a muted violet, patterns shifting across the containment grid in slow rhythm.

Stewart descended the steps to the main platform. The sound here was alive: a layered chorus of hums, clicks, and the distant whisper of circulating coolant. He rested one hand on the safety rail, feeling the faint, steady tremor through the metal—like a heartbeat waiting to quicken.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Alexander Stewart, Engineering Division—reporting for duty,” he said quietly, voice swallowed by the ship’s acoustics.

The nearest console flickered to life, its interface blooming in soft amber. The Starfleet delta symbol pulsed once, confirming his clearance. He let his hand linger on the console, eyes tracing the curved supports, the lattice of conduits above. The space felt both immense and intimate—industrial precision shaped into beauty.

He thought briefly of home: his father’s hillside farm, the wind threading through the heather like whispered verse. Here, the song was different—ionized plasma instead of wind, magnetic fields instead of sea spray—but it carried the same cadence of creation.

A faint smile touched his lips as he opened his log.

“Engines hum like verse. If ye listen long enough, they answer.”

He ended the entry, then glanced around the engine room for his new superior—Jekebb ch’Bari. An Andorian, he remembered, scrolling the name on his padd. Shouldna be hard ta miss, he thought, straightening his tunic. A flicker of uncertainty tugged at him. How does one greet an Andorian?

He drew a steady breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped further into the golden light of Challenger’s heart—ready to learn the rhythm of both machine and crew.

Second Lieutenant ch’Bari closed the hatch on the conduit with a solid metallic clack, the sound echoing faintly through Engineering. He slid out from beneath the power junction, the sharp scent of coolant and ozone still hanging in the air. Rising smoothly to his full height, Jekebb stretched until the joints in his shoulders gave a satisfying pop, his antennae twitching as if testing the room’s ambient charge.

The jacket of his Guard uniform hung open, revealing the dark undershirt beneath; creased, oil-stained, and entirely unbothered by regulation neatness. It was immediately apparent that he was not an officer hung up on ceremony; Jekebb was an engineer who worked with his hands, not one content to bark orders from a console. His blue fingers still carried a faint red-gray dusting of conductive residue, a mark of effort he wore with quiet pride.

He took a slow step back to survey the junction, running his eyes over the diagnostic lights until he saw the steady pulse of green he’d been waiting for. A small, satisfied hum escaped his throat. It wasn’t praise he sought, it was proof that his work worked.

The Lieutenant brushed off his hands on a nearby cloth and exhaled, rolling his broad shoulders once more. “There,” he muttered under his breath, voice low and even, “finally behaving.” He spoke to no one in general. His eyes immediately fell on the unfamiliar man who seemed to be looking for something.

As he took steps towards the man, he took in the entirety of his uniform. "Anything I could help you with Lieutenant?" He asked in near perfect Linguacode.

Stewart closed his log entry and glanced down at the name on his padd again: Jekebb ch’Bari. The ship’s new Chief Engineer.
Andorian.

He’d never worked alongside one before. The Academy had prepared him for warp dynamics, plasma flow, and subspace harmonics—but not for the nuances of Andorian temperament. He slipped the padd back into his jacket pocket, adjusted his collar, and looked around the engine room.

The rhythmic hum of the warp core filled the space like a living pulse, a low resonance that vibrated through the grated deck plating beneath his boots. He could smell the faint tang of ionized coolant and machine oil—clean, but worked-in. The kind of scent that spoke of a ship already claimed by its crew.

Then he saw him.

A tall, broad Andorian stood near the port EPS junction, his jacket hanging open over a dark, oil-stained undershirt. Blue skin glinted under the amber lighting; his antennae tilted slightly forward, focused on a diagnostic display. He moved with the kind of economy that came from experience—hands quick, practiced, precise. When the indicator lights along the conduit pulsed a steady green, he gave a small, approving hum, a sound almost lost beneath the ambient thrum of the engines.

Stewart watched for a moment, admiring the quiet efficiency. This wasn’t a man who ruled by rank. This was a builder—one who listened to his ship the same way Stewart did.

The Andorian wiped his hands on a cloth and finally looked up, eyes landing squarely on Stewart. Stewart realized the large man was speaking to him and blinked as he ran it back through his mind.

Stewart straightened instinctively, though there was nothing in the man’s tone that demanded formality. He gave a short nod, stepping closer with a faint, respectful smile.

“Aye, sir. Lieutenant Junior Grade Alexander Stewart, Engineering Division. Just came aboard—reportin’ t’ye for duty.”

His voice carried its quiet Scottish lilt, unmasked and unbothered by the hum of machinery around them. He glanced briefly at the glowing junction beside Jekebb, then back to the Chief Engineer.

“She’s soundin’ fine, sir,” he added softly. “Good tae see someone who listens tae her, not just reads the readouts.”

This pulled Jekebb's mouth into a small smile. "Happy to have you along Lieutenant."

It wasn’t flattery, just fact. The Andorian’s presence carried a steadiness that reminded Stewart of the hills of home—unyielding, weathered, and sure.

For a moment, they stood in companionable silence, the ship’s pulse filling the space between them. Stewart could feel Challenger’s rhythm settle into his bones—the hum of a machine that was about to wake, guided by hands that understood its song.

He let a small smile form, one part pride, one part gratitude. This was where he belonged.

“Tell me about your last posting,” Jekebb said, his deep voice carrying the clipped precision of a soldier used to being obeyed. He gestured for the Scot to follow as he started up the narrow set of stairs leading toward the catwalk above Engineering. The towering Andorian ducked his head beneath the low bulkhead, his antennae twitching instinctively as they adjusted to the change in spatial flow. The rhythmic hum of the warp core resonated through the chamber, its pulsing glow bathing his pale features in blue light. For all its noise and motion, this was the place he felt most at peace, a cathedral of machinery and order.

Stewart began to speak in his soft brogue as he followed Jekebb up the stairs. His long, lanky frame had no trouble maneuvering, perhaps because he was almost a foot shorter than the Andorian Chief.

“Aye, Columbia,” he said with a faint smile. “That was a post and a half. Good ship, solid crew—though she liked to keep us on our toes. I came aboard straight out o’ Luna Yard duty, joined her during her mid-run refit back in ’54. We were fine-tuning the warp transition systems — the NX-program brass wanted cleaner impulse-to-warp ratios without that kick ye get when the field realigns. The theory looked grand on paper. In practice…” He chuckled softly as he shook his head. “Let’s just say we blew half a relay stack before breakfast more than once.

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the other man was following. “I find it useful to know who I’m working beside,” he added, the words delivered in a tone that was less interrogation and more invitation. Despite his commanding bearing, there was a quiet sincerity in the way he spoke, a desire to understand rather than merely evaluate.

“Most o’ my work was on the intermix feedback systems — keeping the warp plasma stable through the shift cycles. We ended up designing a mod that reduced phase-drift by nearly three percent. The Chief then, Commander Havel, said it was the first time in a month the warp coils didn’t sound like a bagpipe on fire.” Stewart grinned in appreciation of the memory. 


“We took her out past Vega on a deep-field run — first time I’d seen subspace so clear. She handled beautifully. When the orders came down for a transfer to Challenger, I’ll admit, I near turned it down. But Command wanted someone with experience in the new EPS lattice configuration… and well, here I am. New ship, same fight to keep her heart beating.” Reaching the catwalk Stewart finished with, “If Columbia taught me anything, sir, it’s this: the ship’ll forgive a lot, if you listen close to her. They all hum their own tune — ye just have to learn the melody.”

The catwalk, though narrow, had clearly been transformed into something of a personal command post. A series of tools, diagnostic padds, and half-disassembled components were neatly arranged on a folding table against the wall. Jekebb moved toward it with practiced familiarity, resting a hand on the railing as he turned to face his new subordinate.

Stewart watched curiously as he eyed the components. This was definitely a man after his own heart. Stewart’s roommates in Earth Academy training had called his section of their shared room ‘the garage’.

“Up here, I can see everything that happens down below,” he said, his tone bordering on proud. “Every engineer worth their salt needs a good vantage point, and a place to think.” His ice-blue eyes met the Scot’s. “So. Tell me about you.” He lowered himself into a seat that had been brought in from elsewhere on the ship, gesturing to the other for his companion.

“Me?” Stewart blinked, a bit taken aback. Most of his superiors after graduation had only ever asked about his skills, not the man behind them. He moved over and took the offered seat, taking a moment to think of his response.

“Well now, sir,” he began with a faint grin, “I came from a wee croft just outside Aberdeen, Scotland — Earth. Me father was a sheep farmer, and me ma kept the inn in town. Meself, I couldna see doing either of those things. I used to beg to stay at the inn with her, tinkerin’ with whatever machinery I could get me hands on, trying to make it work better.”

His eyes softened slightly at the memory.

“And all the while, I’d listen to the travelers — Starfleet folk, freighter crews, surveyors — spinning their tales of the stars. So aye,” he said with a chuckle, “I suppose I killed two birds with one stone, so ta speak.”Stewart wound down and his gaze came back from the moor’s of Scotland as he looked at ch’ Bari, wondering what the Andorian would make of his recitation. He hadn’t meant to go and on like that.His words just seemed to have a life of their own.

“Sounds like a good life,” Jekebb said, and there was something unguarded in his tone, a faint glint in his icy eyes that suggested both admiration and a distance from the reality he described. The kind of life he had never truly been permitted to consider. A life with choices. With paths that branched instead of narrowed. He offered a small, wry smile to mask the thought before it showed too clearly.

“Well,” he continued, gesturing broadly to the bustle of Engineering around them, “we see all types down here. Pilots, scientists, grease-stained miracle-workers, every one of them carrying their own story.” His antennae tilted slightly forward, a subtle Andorian signal of interest rather than scrutiny.

Jekebb extended his hand, deliberate, firm but not overbearing, the gesture of an officer who was making a genuine effort.

“Welcome to the team, Lieutenant,” he said, sincerity threading through the deep resonance of his voice. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine here.” There was no embellishment. No forced jocularity. Just honest respect—and the faintest trace of relief at no longer standing alone in unfamiliar territory.

Stewart accepted the hand and shook it as his father had taught him. A firm handshake showed respect. “Thank ye, Lieutenant. I am looking forward to serving with ye all. Now where can I get me hands dirty?”

RSS Feed